Day 38

Today I met a man who broke my heart.  I went back to visit Harry Clarke's illustrations, needing something to lift my spirits and keep my mind off life.  I walked all the way to the museum and set off toward the exhibit as soon as I set my foot in the door.  There was a barricade by the steps that led up to the print gallery so I went around the back side to see if the other side was opened.  I peered through the glass and all I could see was a metal door.  I went back downstairs and walked up to a security guard.  He smiled as I approached to his chair and his eyes were expectant.  I asked if the print gallery was closed today.  He said, "It's always closed."  I didn't understand and he explained that they took the exhibit out.  He then said, "Harry Clarke right?"  I nodded.  "You're about six or seven weeks too late I'm afraid," he said apologetically.  I told him I had been before and just wanted to see it again.  I walked out, into a bathroom stall and cried.  I should be glad that I got to see it in the first place, but I couldn't help but feel a sense of loss.  Suddenly, my conversation with the security guard had turned into one of the worst I've had since I've been.  The art is gone, he's gone.  I know it's not the man's fault but he broke my heart today.